


The Book

by theladyrainbow



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyrainbow/pseuds/theladyrainbow
Summary: August 1817. While at the modiste, Eloise finds a book of a rather sensual nature on the floor—complete with some rather shock-inducing illustrations. Curious about their meaning, she asks her married sisters to explain. Daphne, Kate, and Sophie don’t quite know how to respond.Takes place sometime after Sophie and Benedict marry.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset, Sophie Beckett/Benedict Bridgerton
Comments: 46
Kudos: 327





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_There is nothing in this world that fascinates This Author more than a good book. In fact, This Author is of the opinion that one can surely judge a person’s character by taking one look at their bookshelf. Whether you’ve been poring over the same page of Merchant of Venice like the Countess of Renminster, or simply pretending to look smart by holding a copy of Moliere like Miss Cressida Cowper, rest assured, This Author knows what you’ve been reading, and is making judgements…_

_Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 3 August 1817_

Eloise tapped her foot, her pretty mouth scrunching into a frown as she waited in line at the modiste to be measured—once again—for another dress. She certainly didn’t need another dress, but this was going to be the first Bridgerton ball since Benedict had married Sophie and her mother insisted on a new creation. Not one to argue with her mother especially when it came to trivial matters such as this, she heaved a sigh and sat down on a velvet ottoman, watching Francesca getting poked around like a pincushion.

She picked up a mask that was just discarded on the floor. Benedict decided it would have been romantic if they threw another masquerade—Eloise had to keep from rolling her eyes at her brother’s romantic newlywed state (not that she wasn’t happy for them—Sophie was a delight!)—and as a result, the modiste had been bombarded with more and more orders for masks. The mask Eloise had picked up was clearly a misshapen mistake, hence why it was just discarded near the dressing room drapes.

Taking another peek at Francesca who was obviously not near being finished from being measured, Eloise heaved a loud sigh that had her sister glaring at her. Eloise shrugged and tried to find something to occupy her attention. Usually at times of boredom like this, she and Penelope would just whisper and gossip, but the Featheringtons had already been measured for their dresses, so she would have to do without her best friend for now.

Desperately looking around for something to do or fiddle with, she spied something behind the drapes that piqued her curiosity—the well-worn spine of a small blue book. The book had nothing on its cover, or perhaps the markings had already faded seeing as it looked quite stained with age. _At least there’s something to read,_ she shrugged glumly as she turned the book upside down. She opened the book to its first page and saw clear black letters on yellowing paper.

**A Gentleman’s Guide to Basket Making**

Eloise was startled, her brown eyes growing large with curiosity. She knew not a single gentleman who had ever expressed interest in basket making. She thought hard to her family’s days in Aubrey Hall, whether or not she had ever seen Anthony or Benedict, Colin or Gregory with an actual basket. Perhaps it was a fad from long ago, the book did look really dated. She frowned—even without the _gentleman_ part, she was sure she had never come across such a dull subject for a book. Eloise was about to chuck it back into the darkness where it belonged when she decided it wouldn’t hurt just to skim through it—who knows, perhaps she’d find something interesting.

She flicked the pages, not really reading but looking for some picture. She got through a quarter of the book before she found one illustration.

_Oh, dear._

She was sure that if it weren’t for her self-proclaimed strong constitution, she would have fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Countess of Renminster is a nod to Mrs Susannah Mann-Formsby (née Ballister), the heroine in one of Julia Quinn's Bridgerton accompaniment novellas, Thirty-six Valentines featured in the book The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown. The characters attend a performance of Merchant of Venice (featuring the historical figure Edmund Kean). Susannah and David, the Earl of Renminster, married in the spring that preceded the summer events of Viscount Who Loved Me.
> 
> Thirty-six Valentines is one of my most favourite short stories, and I recommend reading it if you'd like some fast-paced Regency fluff.


	2. Chapter 1: Daphne

Eloise trudged across Grosvenor’s Square until she came face to face with the gates of Hastings House. She had successfully evaded a chaperone—swearing to her mother that she was just going to go straight to Daphne’s—she hadn’t lied, that was her intention.

She easily went past the gate and resolutely knocked on the door. She gulped, suddenly feeling thirsty. She had barely eaten, drank, or slept since the moment she got the book. She remembered how she unceremoniously raced from the modiste, much to Francesca’s chagrin, and immediately fled home and locked herself in her room.

She read the whole book overnight, and she was giddy with delight over the subject. Her mother had always been annoyingly secretive over what went on between a man and a woman, always promising her she would tell Eloise when the time was right (which meant, whenever she got married, leading Eloise to decide that she would have to find out on her own), and Daphne always brushed her off whenever she tried to broach the subject. She and Francesca had been saving up some money to bribe a housemaid, but she feared even the most loyal housemaid would scurry to her mother if Eloise even tried showing her the book. She felt too shy to ask Kate and Sophie, Penelope knew as much as she did, and Edwina was off in Greece with her husband.

The book was not about basket-weaving, but about different sorts of sexual pleasures that occurred between a man and a woman. It didn’t offer any information on conception and was usually just concerned with technique and what went where. Truth be told, Eloise couldn’t fathom why such a guidebook needed to be made, or even _how_ the people in the illustrations could survive being in those positions without breaking their backs. Asking her mother was out of the question, she would burn the book in sight and lock Eloise in church if she ever found out.

So, she was left with Daphne. As the butler showed her in, she decided then and there that she would not allow Daphne to brush her off, she would ask all the question she wanted to, and would not leave until she was satisfied.

“Eloise, what brings you here? You rarely seek me out!” Daphne appeared, pregnant and glowing with what would be her and Simon’s fourth child. Eloise rolled her eyes at her sister’s feigned hurt.

“I came to discuss something with you, your grace.” Eloise said, making her voice imperious. Daphne blinked, taken aback. “In private…” Eloise added, whispering.

“Alright.” Daphne looked at her oddly before leading her into the drawing room. She called for a tea service.

“Where are the girls?” Eloise asked, looking around to see if they would pop out in the middle of the conversation. Much as she championed a woman’s right to know her stuff, the girls were _far too young_ to even listen.

“They’ve gone for a ride in the park with Simon. I would have joined but…” Daphne motioned ruefully to her stomach. Eloise nodded. “They just left.”

“Ah, good, good, so I have you all to myself.” Eloise happily said. Daphne thanked the serving girl for the tea service and a look from Eloise caused Daphne to ask that the door be closed behind her. The serving girl did so and once the door was closed; Eloise cleared her throat.

“My, what is this about?” Daphne asked, her curiosity piquing. Eloise tended to take the smallest things seriously, and while she loved indulging her siblings, perhaps the ruse had gone on far too long.

“I found a book.” Eloise said, taking the book out discreetly from her pocket. “I would like for you to read through it and answer any questions I have about it.”

“What?” Daphne exclaimed, receiving the book. “You came over here to lend me a book?”

“Not lend, per se.” Eloise shrugged. “You need only to skim through it to get the gist, and you can answer my questions.”

“Perhaps you should write to the author.” Daphne looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “Eloise, whatever could this book be about that—”

“There is no publisher’s address printed.” Eloise pointedly said in a tone Daphne could only interpret as _I’ve already tried that._ “You are married, and therefore you’d be able to answer my questions about it.”

“Married?” Daphne echoed, confused. Eloise sighed exasperatedly.

“Just look through it.” She groaned, taking a biscuit from the table. Daphne rolled her eyes and grimaced, whatever this book was had obviously been causing her sister some strife so the least she could do was look inside and see—

_Oh._

“Miss Eloise Bridgerton!” Daphne exclaimed, dropping the book accidentally. Eloise flinched—her sister was using her _Duchess_ voice and it was one she rarely used. “Where in _God’s name_ did you find such a…”

Had Eloise not been the subject of Daphne’s cries, Eloise would have laughed at her sister’s red and sputtered state. Rarely did Daphne lose control over her emotions. Eloise wouldn’t do the same. She came here for investigative purposes; she would not lose herself.

“It doesn’t matter.” Eloise placated as Daphne picked up the book and started skimming through it, her face red and flushed, her mouth sputtering. “I simply want to know _how_ these things happen between men and women, _why_ they happen, and _why_ there needed to be a manual. I know it says a _Gentleman’s Guide_ but I couldn’t possibly go to Anthony and—”

“You will do no such thing!” Daphne cried, her voice shrill. “Do you know what he will do to you if he _finds out_ —”

“Which is why I came to you, my oldest sister, my most _knowledgeable_ sister whose _knowledge_ came about after she got married…” Eloise raised her eyebrows.

“I…I don’t even know…would you think I do…or Simon…this is…what type of woman do you take me for…” Daphne hissed, thumbing through the book’s pages in haste. She very much wanted to put the book aside and throttle Eloise for such inappropriate behaviour, but she found herself skimming more of the book and even reading some passages. 

“Ah! So, you recognise some of it?” Eloise eagerly asked. Daphne glared at her.

“Of course not!” Daphne hotly said. Daphne bit her lip as she came across an illustration of a man on his back while a woman rode him like a horse with her back facing his face. That was one of the _tamer_ illustrations in the book.

As Daphne quickly skimmed through the passages of the book, she tried to ignore Eloise’s impatient foot taps. Upon seeing another illustration of woman putting her finger in— _Oh god._ Daphne suddenly felt hot—pregnancy always brought about rushes of emotions for her, and sexual desire was always one of them.

“Oh, that one. Yeah, I don’t see how _that one_ could possibly result in a child…or am I wrong?” Eloise peeked over the page Daphne was on. Daphne’s face reddened even more, and she shut the book.

“Eloise, a lady shouldn’t be found with such _material_ on her person.” Daphne scolded. Eloise suppressed a sigh. “Now, I suggest you go home and—”

“Fine, if you’re not going to be helpful, I’ll just take the book and—” Eloise started but Daphne interrupted her.

“You will do no such thing! I will dispose it myself and rid you of this—” Daphne held the book tight. Eloise, having grown up with seven siblings, knew where this was going. She had had enough tumbles in the nursery with Daphne to recognize what she meant when she held the book up high. With reflexes that surprised her, Eloise snatched the book out of Daphne’s hands.

“Thank you for the tea, sister, but I’m afraid I MUST be going.” Eloise cheerfully said as she scurried out of the room. She grinned, knowing Daphne couldn’t follow her given her condition.

“ELOISE! COME BACK THIS INSTANT!” Daphne cried, waddling after her in the hallway. Eloise grinned, putting the book back in her pocket. She looked back and saw Daphne furiously waving her hands at her.

“Bye, Daff!” Eloise yelled, rushing down the steps of Hastings House before Daphne could say anything further. She quickly found her carriage and asked the driver to go, still a bit paranoid that Daphne could catch her at any moment.

As she sat in the carriage taking her to Number Five, she sighed in disappointment. She had hoped Daphne would be agreeable, but she conceded that even the best plans could go awry. Tomorrow, she would go to Bridgerton House and talk to Kate. Kate had always been straightforward and pragmatic—she was never the type to let herself get overwhelmed if she could help it, and Eloise doubted Kate would send her away like Daphne did.

Kate was a forward-thinking, clever woman who bested Anthony—who thought he was God’s gift to wit and cleverness—time and time again. If anyone had answers and would provide them without fuss, it would be her.

She could only hope that Daphne wouldn’t pre-empt her visit to Kate’s, though, judging by her sister’s manner earlier, Daphne looked like she wanted to erase the book’s existence from her mind. No, Daphne wouldn’t tell Kate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly non-TV canon compliant but is completely book-canon compliant. In the books, Daphne and Simon have three girls (Amelia, Belinda, and Caroline) before they have a boy, David (born 1817). In this chapter, Daphne is pregnant with David.


	3. Chapter 2: Kate

Even though Eloise had already been living at Number Five for some time now, she still considered Bridgerton House her true home in London. Not that Kate would ever let her forget it. Even though she had been Viscountess Bridgerton for three years now, Kate never really gave herself over to the role, Eloise suspected she was much too down to earth for that. While her sister-in-law was an excellent Viscountess, she still maintained to everyone close to her to refer to her as Kate or Mrs. Bridgerton, insisting to everyone that Violet was still Lady Bridgerton.

As such, all the Bridgertons were always welcome in Bridgerton House, and Kate and Anthony made sure that there would always be space for their family. She entered the house, not bothering to knock as the butler and servants were already familiar with her. She expected to hear Edmund playing loudly and Miles crying (Kate had given birth to their second three months prior) but was a little disappointed when all was quiet. Bridgerton House and quiet never went together.

“Eloise, you’re here!” Kate embraced Eloise warmly. Eloise smiled, Kate’s face was dappled with sunshine—she looked like she had just come from the garden. “I’m just having juice in the garden; would you like to join me?”

“Of course!” She looped her arm through Kate’s. “Anthony and Edmund, are they there too?”

“No.” Kate shook her head ruefully. “Anthony decided it would be a good time to bring Edmund to parliament—I didn’t agree, what could _Edmund_ possibly do there? But you know him, he worships his papa.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eloise loved seeing her nephews and nieces but was relieved that they weren’t here for this conversation. She knew Anthony would be in parliament, which is why she timed her visit correctly. Eloise took out a pouch with a small wooden horse figurine on the inside—she had planned on bribing Edmund with the distraction so she could have some time with Kate. “I got him a little present.”

“Oh, this is lovely!” Kate admired, smiling. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it to him yourself? They’ll be back in two or three hours if you can stay longer. Oh, please do!”

Eloise did _not_ want to see Anthony after she and Kate had talked, so she feigned an excuse.

“Penelope and I are trying on our masks for the masquerade, so I can’t stay _that_ long.” Eloise shrugged. “I came here because I wanted to speak with you.”

“With me?” Kate echoed as they sat in a stone bench in the garden beneath a small apple tree. There was a table nearby with juice. Kate offered Eloise a glass and Eloise gratefully took it. “Of course, what did you wish to speak about.”

Eloise relished the cold juice running down her throat, a reprieve from the warm August afternoon. She set it down and looked at Kate, who was looking at her expectantly.

“You see, I found a book—and before you ask me where, I just found it in the floor of a shop somewhere.” Eloise said, taking the book out of her pocket. “I would like for you to read it and…perhaps you could answer some questions for me?”

Kate took the book and gave it an odd look. She shrugged at put it down on her lap.

“Alright.” She nodded. “It’s not that thick so I can probably finish it by tomorrow—assuming Miles doesn’t cry all night. Shall we meet again—”

This was what she liked about Kate, always straight to the point.

“No, I would like if you could skim through it now—it’s easy to understand, you’ll get it quickly if you read a few passages.” Eloise said. “Have a look.”

If Kate thought that a strange request, she said nothing. She merely sighed and picked up the book, opening the first few pages. Eloise heard her mutter under her breath “ _basket weaving?”_ questionably before she flipped through the pages.

“Oh!” Kate’s eyes widened and a blush crept on her cheeks. She quickly flipped through the other pages, pausing once in a while to read a passage or stare at an illustration. “Oh, my. Eloise, this is…”

“I know, it’s not about basket weaving.” Eloise said, grateful that Kate wasn’t displaying too large a reaction. “Look, I’m 23, and I might be on my way to spinsterhood, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t _know_ about these things and—”

“Eloise, what questions were you hoping to ask _me?_ ” Kate looked up from the book, worrying what Eloise thought of her if she considered _her_ of all people an expert on these things. “I don’t do…well…”

“Daphne wasn’t too much of a help.” Eloise muttered.

“You asked Daphne?” Kate asked, startled.

“Yes. I’m not stupid. I know married people share these kinds of intimacies and you, Daphne, and Sophie are the only married people I know!” Eloise said, laying out her logical thoughts. “I’m not about to ask my brothers.”

“No, that would not be wise.” Kate snorted, her eyes widening as she saw an illustration of a woman on her back with her right leg up on a man’s shoulder, and the man, sitting up and facing her, had his right leg between her legs, his calf resting on her torso and his foot beside her head. “How is this possible?”

“Is basket making a euphemism for conceiving a child?” Eloise asked. Kate almost choked on her juice.

“I mean, some of these…Eloise…they are not meant _solely_ for the purposes of having a child.” Kate bit her lip, cringing at her own explanation.

“What purpose do they serve?” Eloise asked. Now, she was getting somewhere. She should have just gone to Kate in the first place. “Fun? If you ask me, that doesn’t look fun.”

“I…I don’t know what to tell you, Eloise.” Kate snapped the book shut. “Oh dear, you’ve read the whole thing, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have.” Eloise nodded. “It’s only just a manual though, no reasonings to it. Do this, do that, put this here, put that there…is lovemaking always that tedious?”

“Eloise, you have to understand, this isn’t…how lovemaking is _usually_ done.” Kate offered.

“The book said much pleasure can be achieved for both parties.” Eloise pressed. “If that’s the case, why isn’t it how it’s usually done?”

“Oh, dear. We should not be speaking about this.” Kate shook her head. “Anthony would murder me if he even knew we were speaking about such things.”

“Why does everyone insist on keeping girls ignorant of things like this?” Eloise exasperatedly cried. “It’s not like we’d attempt it with the next man we saw if we knew what it was about.”

This time, Kate did blush to her roots. Eloise smiled apologetically.

“I’m merely curious. I’m here as an investigator.” Eloise proudly said. She saw Kate smirk. “Did you know about this before you married Anthony?”

“Goodness, no!” Kate insisted. “This is not the sort of thing that is…talked about.”

“So, your mama never…” Eloise started.

“Mary told me the basics of it, and I’d already seen how animals mate back in the farm at Somerset.” Kate shrugged. She opened the book again and thumbed through it, gasping a little when she came across a passage that described the different things one could do to stimulate a man’s nipples. “This…this is…advanced stuff…for specialists…”

“You mean women in brothels?” Eloise asked. Kate’s eyes widened.

“Perhaps.” Kate murmured. “And no, before you say anything, I _forbid_ you to even go _near_ where you think a brothel is.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. If Daphne had a Duchess voice, then this was probably Kate’s Viscountess voice. Lady Bridgerton had arrived.

“Are you sure you can’t tell me anything else?” Eloise eagerly asked.

“No.” Kate said. “Now, the best thing to do is to forget this book ever existed, maybe Newton can chew it off.”

“What? We can’t do that.” Eloise grumbled, quickly taking the book from Kate’s lap. Kate rolled her eyes, not taking the bait. _Bridgertons,_ she sighed to herself.

“Eloise, don’t talk of this to anyone else, alright?” Kate said, looking straight at her. Eloise mumbled in return, standing up and putting the book back in her pocket. “In fact, just throw the book away. Pray none of your brother see it.”

“I’ll make sure it stays out of sight,” Eloise gulped. “Thank you for having me, Kate. I better go…Penelope is waiting for me.”

“Are…are you sure you don’t want me to dispose of the book for you?” Kate asked, holding out her palm expectantly. _Nice try,_ Eloise thought.

“No, I’ll take care of it.” Eloise said. She kissed Kate on the cheek. “I’ll see myself out, lovely to see you as always!”

As she strode out of the garden and into the house, Eloise snuck a look back and saw Kate sitting back down on the bench, wiping her brow with a handkerchief. Eloise looked up at the sky— _it’s not that warm._

Still undeterred, Eloise knew that her last hope was her new sister-in-law, Sophie. She had a good feeling about Sophie. After all, she’d spent a few weeks as her lady’s maid and servants did talk about anything and everything. Perhaps in her time there she’d found out about some things. As she exited Bridgerton House, she looked at the grandfather clock and sighed, disappointed. Benedict would be home from the club already, so she would not be able to have a private moment with Sophie.

Eloise patted the book in her pocket, assuring herself of its safety. Tomorrow, she would get her answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely too sure when exactly the move to Number Five occurred. The first mention of the residence named such was in Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, and it is mentioned there that Violet and the unmarried children moved out of Bridgerton House sometime after Anthony and Kate married.


	4. Chapter 3: Sophie

Sadly, Benedict had been at his and Sophie’s lodgings when Eloise arrived. She had to create an excuse about wanting to try on dresses for the masquerade—an excuse that hadn’t easily been believed given that it _was_ Eloise making the request, but at the sight of his wife’s eager smile, Benedict acquiesced. He said he was going to go to White’s, and Eloise sighed in relief when she saw his carriage leave from her view from the window. 

Eloise had to walk over trunks and baggage once she entered Sophie’s dressing room. They had only been married for less than two months, but already they were planning to move out of London into their own cottage in the country. Much as she was loathed to have Benedict and Sophie living away, she understood given their circumstance the need to live away from London. The ball next week would be their last hurrah before they settled into rustic domesticated bliss.

“Eloise, I might not have been your lady’s maid for long, but I know you well enough that this isn’t about dresses.” Sophie laughed as she tried on her mask—it was a black sequined one with feathers. “Nevertheless, you are here now so please offer your opinion on this mask.”

“Does it really have to have all those feathers?” Eloise frowned, unsure if she liked the white feathers.

“I suppose I could take one off or I’ll be sneezing the entire evening.” Sophie shrugged, putting the mask down. “Now, what is it you want to talk to me about that you didn’t want Benedict listening?”

“Let me start of by saying that I’ve already gone to Daphne and Kate for this and perhaps that wasn’t the best choice…” Eloise slowly took out the book. “It’s common knowledge in the _ton_ that servants know everything, and while you might not have been a real one, I know for a fact you must have heard some things.”

“What sort of things?” Sophie asked.

“I found this book.” Eloise placed it on Sophie’s lap once they were both seated on the sofa. “Don’t ask me where, what’s important is I have it and I’ve read it. _Thoroughly._ You are now married, so you must know the answers to my questions.”

“Wait, slow down.” Sophie laughed. She took the book and opened it. Sophie’s eyes widened as she looked through the book, gulping at one of the illustrations. “What the—”

“I want to know _why_ people would engage in such activities.” Eloise said matter-of-factly. “You _must_ tell me for there is _no one else_ I can ask.”

Daphne’s reaction had been of utter disbelief, Kate’s had been of a surprise, but it was Sophie’s reaction that startled Eloise the most. Sophie started giggling in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Eloise asked as Sophie cackled even more, flipping through the pages. She closed her eyes in mirth when she saw an illustration of a man on all fours and a woman beneath him. She opened her eyes and snorted in a most unladylike fashion when she read the passage that accompanied it.

“One of your servants had a similar book.” Sophie choked out when her laughter subsided. “And before you ask, no, I will not tell you who. Never.”

“Did you talk to her about it? What did she say?” Eloise was practically jumping in curiosity.

“I didn’t talk to her, but I heard her talking about it to another girl.” Sophie said. “She said it was from her sister, the mistress of some baron from Essex somewhere…”

“Mistress?” Eloise frowned. She knew that men of stature kept mistresses for the purposes of finding pleasure outside one’s marriage bed, but she didn’t know the job entailed this. “Is this what mistresses do? Kate said that brothels—”

“Well, men usually seek mistresses when they feel…unsatisfied with their wives.” Sophie said. “Benedict was mad enough to ask me to be his—”

“HE WHAT?” Eloise yelled, wanting to strangle her brother.

“It’s a long story.” Sophie waved her off. Eloise pouted. “Anyway, this isn’t the sort of thing gentlemen would do to respectable ladies…”

“So only unrespectable ladies attempt…” Eloise tried to reason.

“Well, no…any woman could find pleasure in this…” Sophie stared at one of the illustrations, turning the book upside down in an attempt to understand. “But it’s…”

“Unusual? Kate said as much.” Eloise sighed.

“Look, obviously the person who wrote this practiced a very…bohemian lifestyle.” Sophie shrugged. “Hardly a gentleman, if you ask me, but I suppose that’s the irony of the title.”

“What irony?” Eloise asked, befuddled.

“Well, perhaps sometimes ladies enjoy ungentlemanly behaviour.” Sophie laughed once again. “And no, I won’t go into detail about myself—that’s hardly appropriate.”

“Is that all you heard from the servant girl?” Eloise asked, already making a mental list of all the servants in the Bridgerton Household to see who she would be able to corner first.

“Eloise, I really don’t know how to say this, but…I don’t know…get yourself married and _find out._ ” Sophie said. If it had been anyone else who said it, Eloise would have thought they were being mean, but there wasn’t a single mean streak in Sophie. She could simply just not explain further.

“Do you think the men of the _ton_ would…” Eloise held the book, looking at it dubiously.

“Depends on the man.” Sophie said. “Those pictures aren’t necessarily a bad thing, Eloise. They’re not _evil,_ per se. But you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if you weren’t with someone you loved.”

“These two…” Eloise presented an illustration of a woman on all fours and a man behind her on his knees. “Are in love?”

“Oh, God.” Sophie pushed the book down. “I mean…the author didn’t draw their faces…”

“So, the purpose of these illustrations is to…” Eloise was now exasperated.

Sophie only shrugged, but Eloise could see a knowing glint in her eyes. Eloise grumbled under her breath and stood up.

“I must get going.” Eloise muttered. “I still haven’t been fitted for my dress.”

“Wait, leave the book here.” Sophie said, catching Eloise’s wrist before she left. “I’ll take it with me to the country and throw it away there—no respectable lady should ever have that in their possession.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want _you_ to be caught with it, then.” Eloise smirked, putting the book back in her pocket. She gave Sophie a quick embrace before racing down the stairs.

“Eloise, what are you going to do…” Sophie called to her, but Eloise was too fast, so she didn’t hear the rest. She sighed as she exited the house, not knowing what her next move was.

She sat in her carriage and bade the driver to take her home. Biting her lip, she stared out into the streets. None of her married sisters had been able to give her any useful information, and she was at a loss. She resolved to read the book again tonight—if nobody was going to give her any answers, she was going to try and look for them herself. Re-reading a book always gave her new insight into the matter, why should this book be any different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is unclear when exactly Benedict and Sophie moved to My Cottage, but I can't imagine them lingering in London until the very end of the season. Still, it would be highly un-Bridgerton if a soiree was not thrown to send them off, and knowing Benedict and his penchant for the romantic, the insistence on a masquerade is not entirely too out of character.


	5. Epilogue

_There is nothing like a ball to lift the spirits in this August heat, and the Bridgertons always know how to throw a good soiree. This Author already has her mask prepared, Gentle Reader, but if you don’t have yours yet, well, perhaps a bonus to the modiste would get you a new one fairly quickly._

_In the meantime, brush up on your literature! This Author has it on good authority that famed Scottish novelist Sir Walter Scott will be attending tomorrow’s ball—he is a close friend of the handsome Kilmartins._

_Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 7 August 1817_

“Miss Bridgerton, there are some guests in the drawing room here to see you.” Her maid said behind the door. Eloise grumbled, tearing her eyes away from the book.  
“Who?” Eloise called back.

“I…they said not to say…” The maid said. Eloise rolled her eyes; the maids could be so difficult sometimes. She put the book in her pocket—she wasn’t going to leave it in her room lest she be discovered.

In a grumpy mood, she walked past the maid and downstairs to the drawing room. She was about to tell whoever had visited that she felt ill, but when she entered and saw that it was Daphne and Kate, sitting having biscuits, she froze.

Behind her, she heard the door slam and whirled around. Sophie had been behind the door waiting for her to enter, and Eloise inwardly groaned that there was no escape now. She trudged to the chair opposite Daphne and Kate, and Sophie sat down next to her.

“Eloise, where is the book?” Daphne started, wiping crumbs off her face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eloise coolly said.

“Eloise!” Daphne admonished. Kate and Sophie chuckled at the Bridgerton sisters. Daphne’s regal stature had disappeared immediately in the face of a recalcitrant sister.

“You have to give it up, Eloise.” Kate said, pursing her lips. “Sophie told us that she let slip about some maid…this interrogation stops now.”

“Look, just because you’re all married doesn’t mean what goes on in the marital bed should be kept secret!” Eloise passionately cried out.

“Eloise, I can assure you, nothing in that book is on our marriage beds.” Sophie said, looking at Kate and Daphne who had both blushed.

“Does that upset you?” Eloise asked. There was a furore as the women spluttered in protest. “Ohh...I see…”

“No, you don’t see!” Daphne’s shrill voice rose above all. “Now hand over the book!”

Eloise made the mistake of patting down the pocket of her dress, and the women had seen the outline of the book.

“Wait, no!” With strength she didn’t know she had, Sophie grasped Eloise’s arms and Kate lunged forward and reached in her pocket. Eloise squirmed, kicking and growling but she was no match for the two women—especially Kate who had experience dealing with fidgety children. Kate managed to extract the book triumphantly.

“Give it back!” Eloise cried out, reaching. Sophie pushed her down her seat. “You’re being mean, all of you!”

“Eloise, this is not a good book for you.” Daphne scolded. Eloise glared at her sister. “Trust us.”

Eloise stuck her tongue out at Daphne before lunging at Kate again. Kate took a step back and held the book up, and Sophie blocked Eloise from the path. Eloise was about to push Sophie aside when she felt strong hands on her shoulders pull her away and sit her on the couch. Before she knew it, Daphne—the heavily pregnant Duchess of Hastings, was sitting on her lap.

“If you push me away, you’ll hurt the baby.” Daphne warned, knowing Eloise would never do anything to harm her nieces and nephews. Eloise’s shoulders slumped; she knew she had lost. She couldn’t wait until Daphne gave birth and she could have her revenge.

“Now, we will get rid of this book, and that’s the end of it.” Kate said, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Is that understood, Eloise?” Daphne called, craning her neck to face her sister.

“Fine, fine!” Eloise yelled. “Just get off me, big woman!”

Daphne smiled triumphantly and stood up, taking the seat next to Eloise. Eloise stood up and crossed her arms against her chest.

“This isn’t the end of this.” Eloise grumbled, giving them all deathly glares before stalking out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.

Once Eloise was gone and the sound of her footsteps going up the stairs had retreated, the women sighed in relief, leaning back in their seats.

“All this…for a book about _basket weaving._ ” Kate rolled her eyes, opening the book and turning to a passage about the use of the female tongue.

“I tell you; those women are not normal.” Daphne pointedly said, glancing at Kate who was rifling through the book. She gently took the book away from Kate and flipped to a page in the middle. “What kind of woman could contort her body into this…figure number seven…”

Kate and Sophie looked at the illustration Daphne was referring to.

“I think it could be done.” Sophie shrugged. “Some circus girls are very flexible.”

“There are limits to flexibility!” Kate gasped, turning to another page. “Number ten here defies even gravity itself!”

“Oh, that’s not difficult.” Daphne shrugged. “That’s one of the tamer ones.”

“Really? You mean you and Simon…” Kate looked at Daphne, then looked at the illustration. “But he’s much too tall for that!”

“I’m telling you; it could work!” Daphne nodded. “You just need to angle your hips right.”

“My hips could never!” Kate cackled. “I could perhaps bend a little to the right, but Anthony’s arms are—”

“No! No!” Daphne shrieked, putting her hands over her ears and doubling in laughter. “I do not want to hear about Anthony! Don’t say his name!”

Kate and Sophie joined in the laughter. Wiping her tears, Sophie picked up the book and searched for the illustration she was looking for.

“What I don’t understand is…here, number three!” Sophie declared, pointing the illustration out. Kate and Daphne looked at it, tilting their heads to the right.

“Wait, turn it upside down.” Kate said. Sophie did so.

“Ahhh…” Kate and Daphne said in unison.

“Number three can’t be done on a bed—the mattress wouldn’t provide leverage.” Kate nodded.

“If you’re brave enough, do it outside in the grass.” Daphne smiled knowingly at Sophie.

“Outside?” Kate and Sophie gasped. Daphne laughed.

“Well, not in London.” Daphne acquiesced. Kate and Sophie gaped at her. “Oh, sisters, I’ve been married the longest here, don’t be too surprised.”

“I think some stretching might be necessary if you want to really do number three!” Kate looked at it dubiously.

“I tell you, ladies, if I manage to do number three, you’ll just find my back broken!” Sophie shrieked in laughter.

“What about Benedict’s back?” Kate snorted.

“No! No! You promised! Don’t say my brothers’ names please!” Daphne wailed in laughter.

The three doubled down in laughter as Kate kept pointing out the mechanics of how they could possibly get to number three, reading out the passage. They heard the door to the house open, and heavy footsteps accompanied them. They wiped their eyes of tears from their laughter, trying to bite back their mirth.

They could hear the faint sound of Simon, Anthony, and Benedict coming in.

“I tell you brother,” They heard Benedict’s voice loud and clear. “I made the right bet. Always best to go with number three!”

Kate, Sophie, and Daphne froze, looked at each other, and a second later, started howling in laughter.

“I can’t! No! It’s too horrid!” Daphne cried, not being able to hold back her loud laughs.

“Looks like you’re in for an interesting night, eh, Sophie?” Kate teased. Sophie was too red faced, spluttering in laughter.

“No! No stop! Please I can’t!” Daphne howled, her face red with mirth.

“What can be so funny?” The three women exhaled, looking at Anthony who had his arms crossed against his chest in a manner that reminded Kate too much of Eloise. Benedict and Simon were behind him, looking at the women curiously.

“Well, Eloise found a book—” Sophie started but the two women turned on her and shrieked.

“NO!” Daphne and Kate hollered.

“What book?” Simon asked, taking a seat next to his wife. Anthony sat across Kate and Benedict stood behind Sophie to put his hands on her shoulders.

“You know, Kate, number three starts like that.” Daphne said, pointing at Benedict’s hands on Sophie’s shoulders. “Leverage, you know.”

Kate couldn’t contain her laughter. She started laughing again, and Sophie, too embarrassed, buried her head in her hands but muffled chuckles could still be heard from her.

“What book?” Anthony asked, his voice loud and booming.

“Here, if you must know!” Kate unceremoniously dropped the book on Anthony’s lap. “She wouldn’t tell us where she found it, and she asked us what we thought.”

Simon and Benedict leaned in to follow Anthony as he perused the book. Their faces were shocked, to say the least.

“Don’t worry, we took the book and sent her off without telling her much of anything.” Daphne said, shrugging. “She doesn’t know what it means.”

“I’ve been married three years and I don’t know what most of it means.” Kate couldn’t resist adding that in. Kate, Daphne and Sophie started laughing again.

“Where in God’s name did she come by this book?” Anthony asked, appalled. He had half a mind to march Eloise down and give her a stern talking to, but Kate put her hand over his.

“Oh, leave her be, Anthony.” Kate sighed. “We took the book away, no harm done. She says she just found it—doubtful she’ll find another of its kind once more.”

“This is curious…” Benedict took the book away from Anthony and sat next to Sophie, his look teasing. “Is this what had you so embarrassed, dear wife? Number three?”

“What? No!” Sophie blurted out, embarrassed. “It’s not much better than Kate—she wants to try Number 10!”

“I did not say that!” Kate yelled, but Anthony was too quick, and he took the book from Benedict and turned to the correct page. “I don’t want to do that!”

“Number 10, eh?” Anthony cocked an eyebrow at his wife.

“We’re going to stop talking about this!” Daphne insisted. “Anthony, burn that book and—”

“Oh, now she speaks, Duchess Number Seven!” Kate laughed, turning to Daphne. Daphne turned red. Anthony turned to the page and growled.

“You did that to my sister?” Anthony roared, lunging at Simon. Simon backed off, and Anthony would have crashed into him had a figurine not been on the floor. Anthony tripped and landed on his back on the carpeted floor.

“See? Now Anthony’s prepared for Number 10. Go on, Kate!” Simon roared in laughter. The rest of the room doubled down in laughter. Anthony grimaced and shook his head, joining in laughing as well. Benedict helped him up and he sat down next to Kate.

“This book is going to be the death of us.” Kate shook her head. “I agree, it must be disposed of.”

“I’ll take it to Bridgerton House and dispose it there!” Anthony insisted. “Eloise could find it again if it stays here.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that brother, we’ll take it with us to the country.” Benedict winked at his wife. “That way, the respectable gentlemen and ladies of London wouldn’t have to worry about it sullying their shelves.”

“Hastings House is one of the most secure places in London, we will hide it there and no one will be the wiser.” Simon offered.

As the three men argued over who could best dispose of the book, the women found themselves doubling down in laughter again.

Outside, peering by the door, Eloise pulled Penelope closer and discreetly pointed at the book. They made sure they wouldn’t be seen by Eloise’s siblings and their spouses.

“That’s the one I meant.” Eloise whispered. “We have to find out what it means, and I wager that’s why they’re all fighting about it.”

“You know, I heard Sir Walter Scott is coming to the ball. If we see him, maybe we could ask him about it? Surely authors know other authors.” Penelope offered.

“That’s a grand idea, Penelope!” Eloise said, her eyes brightening. “Perhaps they have the same publisher.”

Penelope and Eloise crept up the stairs, snickering to themselves over their plan. Penelope snuck a look back at the drawing room and shook her head. She wagered that Eloise's siblings and their spouses actually knew nothing of the contents in the book and were just as curious as they were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no historical sources that can prove the presence of Sir Walter Scott in London in 1817, but I couldn't resist making the Scotland connection that could pre-empt Francesca's story. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this! Please leave your thoughts on the comments below, I would love to read them!


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